


A Lazy Wednesday Afternoon

by whopooh



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Lazy Afternoon Sex, PWHNP (porn with hardly no plot), Phryne appreciates Jack, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-20 00:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whopooh/pseuds/whopooh
Summary: There is a delicious man resting in her boudoir, and Phryne really shouldn't go in and disturb him. Whatever will she do?For PFF.





	A Lazy Wednesday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts), [PromisesArePieCrust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PromisesArePieCrust/gifts).



> I have had such a writing drought the past months, and it seemed I needed an anniversary to manage to write something again. So, an extra thank you to Fire_Sign and Promisesarepiecrust for coming up with the idea of PFF! I can't believe it's already been two years. Thank you for being so brilliant, and this fic is for you!
> 
> Also, I couldn't resist using the tag "Phryne appreciates Jack", which is my favourite from the fic I wrote about tagging, ["Miss Fisher and the Tagging Game"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759092)

Phryne paused outside her own bedroom door, hand on door handle. She was uncharacteristically uncertain. 

On the other side of the door, a man lay in her bed. She didn’t want to disturb him; really, she should probably just go down and have a nice cup of afternoon tea and let him have his peace. But, surely, she could pop in without disturbing him too much? She itched to see him, and she was well known for being quiet as a mouse. 

She opened the door carefully. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, with the sheet pushed down so it only covered the lower part of his body, exposing his upper body and arms to her gaze. His lean frame melted into the mattress. He was utterly relaxed, and utterly beautiful.

She made her way to the bed soundlessly, sitting down on the edge. 

“Hello, Jack,” she whispered, allowing only her eyes to caress him though her fingers were itching to touch him. 

His eyelids slowly fluttered opened, revealing those intense, blue eyes that she loved. She was positive she’d never seen more beautiful eyelashes in her life. Reason, telling her that of course she must have, was quickly relegated to the back of her mind – she had never seen more beautiful eyelashes, or had more beautiful eyes rest on hers, she was sure of it. 

“Phryne,” he mumbled. His mouth quirked up into a small smile before he closed his eyes again. 

Her breath hitched from the small, simple gesture. He was just… _there_. Resting, familiar, trusting, at home in her house. Happy to see her, without making a show of it. She reached out to stroke a lock from his forehead, his soft answering sigh spreading warmth through her entire body.

Generally, men were in her bed because she had seduced them, and their whole attention was on her. This man was – as always – an exception. He had had a late shift the day before and when his eyes drooped over lunch, she’d ordered him to go take a nap. 

And here he was, peacefully lying in her bed. Making it downright impossible for her to keep away.

She was a woman who loved easily, deeply, but she hadn’t imagined herself falling _in_ love. She hadn’t imagined herself not only being intrigued by a man, but being endeared by every detail of him, every quirk, just because they were _his_. The thought lingered as she reached out to caress his chest. Not with a quick, light touch that so easily could become a tickle, nor a sultry, promising one with real intent. She didn’t have a plan, she simply caressed him, explored him, not able to deny herself the feeling of his skin against hers.

Her fingers trailed through the sparse, light brown hair on his chest. He kept his eyes closed, her effect on him only noticeable by how he was almost not breathing, as if he didn’t want to give away his reaction. Her hand moved on, down his stomach and to his side, tracing the smooth and slightly paler skin of his scars. The individual traces of his life – a smatter of scars from shrapnel in the war, a more concentrated one that had come from a knife; proof that he’d lived, but also that he just as well might not have. 

As she carefully touched his warm skin, she realised there was no way she could flee now. This was her life. These emotions – that captured her as she watched his chest heave slowly – she couldn’t deny them. She couldn’t deny this... this delightful, serious, stubborn man. She couldn’t take her eyes away from his skin as she touched it. 

She let her hand travel further up, to his shoulder and down his arm, smugly noticing how gooseflesh appeared in the wake of her progress. He silently moved one hand, resting it on her hip but not moving it further. The small gesture made her insides tingle.

His skin was incredibly smooth on the inside of the arm, then rougher and more hardened on the outside. Her fingers carefully trailed their way all the way back to his shoulder again, and she couldn’t resist bending down to kiss him on his stomach.

It had been almost a month now. A month of drowning in his eyes, kissing him breathless, solving crimes together, and making love. A month, and she had far from gotten enough of him.

Mac had given her the side eye the other day at the morgue.

“How’s it going?” she’d asked.

“I think I know how the murder happened,” Phryne had answered, but Mac had shaken her head.

“Not that,” she’d said. “I meant the Robinson affair.”

“It’s not an affair, Mac,” Phryne had retorted, surprised at how badly that word described what they were doing. 

Mac had raised her elegant eyebrow in response.

“I thought as much,” she’d said, then turned to clean up after her work.

It wasn’t an affair, was it? Men you had affairs with didn’t lie innocently in your bed while you went around minding your own business, did they? At least not the dalliances Phryne was used to. 

She returned to his chest and again bent down to give him a kiss on his stomach, under his nipple. She opened her mouth and licked his skin; it was so smooth and supple it made her want to bite it. So she did. She got a sound out of him then, a mixture of a rumble and a sigh, and she let her hands wander further down, pushing the sheet to the side so she could see all of him, caressing his groin – softly, thoroughly – before moving on to his cock through his shorts. 

“Mmm,” he said, but as she flicked her eyes towards his she saw they were still closed.

She let her hand slide over the slight bulge that was growing larger by the instant, letting her fingers tease his tip through the fabric. Then she returned to his thighs and his delicious stomach. After a while, she allowed her hand to travel over his growing erection again, but only on the way to finally give proper attention to his knees and calves.

She turned like a cat and laid down beside him, head to toe, so she could caress his beautiful legs in long, content strokes. He kept admirably still during all her attentions, but she could hear that he struggled to keep his breathing calm. She wanted to touch every inch of him, and she bent down to teasingly kiss his calf. Finally, he had had enough. His hands shot out to caress the legs that were so teasingly displayed in front of him; his movement so quick it sent a shiver through her. His large, warm hands touched her thighs and snuck beneath her dress, nimbly unbuttoning her garters – first the one, then the other – so he could cautiously stroke away her stockings. Then he let his hands boldly continue up her legs until they covered her arse, kneading her buttocks thoroughly. 

She gasped as he moved on to gently caress her sex through her knickers – shyness was not on the table today, it seemed. As much as she enjoyed it, she refused to forget her own mission, continuing to touch his legs, her hand straying up to again caress the cotton-covered bulge between them.

“I’m resting, you know, Miss Fisher,” he whispered, and she could hear a smile in his voice. “I am not going to move.” 

He grabbed her hips and pulled her up so she straddled him, still head to toe, positioning her sex above his mouth and then pushing her down so he could reach her properly with his tongue. 

“Jack!” she exclaimed in a half-whisper as he started to kiss and lick her. Her dress pooled at her hips and she was still wearing her underwear; he kissed her through the silky material that was getting wetter by the second. As she gasped he put even more effort into his kisses; she could feel his teeth through the material.

That awoke her from her delighted surprise and she reached with purpose for that bulge that now, in her new position, was on perfect display in front of her. She kissed his cock, feeling the responding rumble from his chest go through her entire body. Then she bit it, knowing that the cotton shorts would take away the sting and leave only a delicious pressure. Her fingers massaged the root of his erection while she strew kisses over it. When Jack pushed her knickers slightly to the side, so his tongue could finally touch her wetness without anything between them, she mewled. He let his tongue trail over her, slowly and deliberately, and then into her, taking her as hard as he could with only his tongue. She bit down on his length in response, his responding grunt turning her insides into fire. 

She took him into her mouth, fabric and all, and when he started to push down her knickers properly she helped, moving so he could take them off her. Then she pulled his shorts down to expose his cock to her gaze. It was as beautiful as the rest of him, she decided, slightly askew as it strived upwards, and she licked the tip of it. He tasted slightly salty, evidence of his arousal. She kissed down his length, savouring its texture as it was still slightly soft, the skin not yet pulled taut for a full erection. Then she took him in, allowing only the tip in her mouth and using her hand for the rest, going slowly so she had room in her brain to also register what he did to her in turn. He was pushing a finger inside her while delightfully kneading her arse with the other hand. She loved when he allowed himself to dive into that adoration of her legs and derrière that she'd noticed early on – she loved that he did it with such abandon. His tongue was insistently focused on her nub, sending waves of pleasure through her.

He was serious in this, she realised – he really didn't intend to move from his resting position just because he was fucking her. He let his finger escape her heat and instead gripped her arse to keep her in place so he could fully devour her, kissing her deeply before his tongue relentlessly set upon her nub again. She decided to give the erection in front of her the full attention it deserved. She devoured it completely, sucking and licking, before she let her hand around him tighten slightly. She started to stroke him in earnest; when he moaned, she picked up speed. 

They were both trying to make the other come first, realising it couldn’t be long now, and wanting to assure the other’s pleasure. Jack’s grunts and the way they went straight into her cunt made her climb higher; as she realised she was almost there, her hand turned almost furious. When she felt herself starting to come, the waves rising in her preparing for a last long tumble, she made a final twist with her hand that made him come with an almost anguished cry. She saw his white fluid squirt out of him, his cock turning half limp. She kissed and licked the tip to savour his true saltiness, while he with a last effort finally made the wave of orgasm crash over her, taking her over and obliterating any thoughts.

Panting, she fell down by his side. She basked in the way her body glowed from his attentions, letting herself lie still and feel her heartbeat gradually slow down. After a while, she reached out to lay her hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. 

“I’m not entirely sure that counts as resting, Inspector.”

He smiled at her flippant tone, turning his head so he could look at her face.

“I’m sure I’ve simply been lying on my back resting all afternoon, Miss Fisher,” he answered, caressing her lazily as he spoke. “I may never have felt more rested in my life.”

Phryne cuddled closer, resting her head on his outstretched arm.

“Afternoon naps are quite special, aren’t they?” she said.

“I never noticed it before,” he admitted, his smile deepening as he looked up into the ceiling, “but I think you’re right.”

She yawned.

“I suppose it’s a Wardlow special,” she said drowsily. “You should probably always take your naps here.”

He turned to look at her again, his eyes so soft and tender it would have made her heart flip if she hadn’t already closed her eyes. As she drifted off into a light sleep, he continued to caress her back. Of course she fell asleep on the spot, like a cat. His own disposition was quite different, but he didn’t mind. He wouldn't be able to rest while having Phryne Fisher snoozing limply on his arm. But what did it matter? He could always sleep another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to aurora_australis for being a brilliant and kind beta!


End file.
